The problem with sequels is that we’ve seen it before.
“Twister” was a smash hit in 1996. It was the second-highest grossing movie of the year behind another disaster movie, “Independence Day.” One blew up the White House. Another showed us a flying cow.
Both gave us something new, but “Twister” had more going for it than show-stopping spectacle. It tapped into an elemental fear of the natural world, using both practical and digital effects to create white-knucle tension, while populating its interstitial moments with an ace cast of character actors.
“Twisters,” its long-gestating sequel, does almost all of what its predecessor did, but we have seen it before and that takes off some of the shine. Kate Cooper (Daisy Edgar-Jones) is a brilliant young scientist with a tragedy in her recent past. Her ambition got someone killed, and survivor’s guilt has kept her on the sidelines ever since.
Now a meteorologist in New York, she is lured back into the tornado-chasing game in Oklahoma by Javi (Anthony Ramos), her old partner, and his corporate-sponsored team.
Their rivals — of course, tornado chasers led by Tyler (Glen Powell), a handsome devil with a fearless attitude and strong social media savvy. His gimmick is to drive into the heart of the tornado, screw his truck into the ground, and shoot fireworks into the funnel. Of course, his team captures it all on video and uploads it to their subscribers.
The distinction between the two teams grows blurry as Kate learns more about Javi’s financiers and Tyler’s earnest compassion for victims on the ground.
For stretches, she is torn between her old friend and the handsome newcomer, but this moral quandary is undermined by a weak sense of character. The dilemma doesn’t resonate because none of these characters seem particularly real.
Powell possesses ample movie star charm, but without a strong script, he comes off like a movie star created in a lab. All smiles and no soul. He’s at his best when his characters have an intellectual bent, as in “Everybody Wants Some!!” or the recent “Hitman.”
This is not his best. The role of Tyler is pure, bland charisma, and it’s no surprise that the film lags in those moments when it expects us to invest in its characters.
Daisy Edgar-Jones, who made her bones on TV’s “Normal People” and starred in “Where the Crawdads Sing,” is an even bigger problem. It’s not entirely her fault, although she doesn’t have much to work with in her acting toolbag. The part doesn’t do her any favors.
“Twisters” follows the unfortunate Hollywood trend of creating women characters who are defined entirely by their trauma. Like Tyler, there is no real sense of her humanity. Nothing specific in her characterization.
We can’t accuse “Twisters’’ of misogyny, since it has no curiosity about its male characters either, but it’s an unfortunate trend in an industry that claims to have made progress in its portrayal of women.
On the other hand, nobody goes to “Twisters” for a nuanced understanding of human nature. We go for the kills. On that count, the film mostly scores.
Director Lee Isaac Chung, who grew up in nearby Arkansas, understands the terrifying power and raw spectacle of the tornado. Like its predecessor, Twisters works best as a monster movie in which the villain — in this case, the violent and unpredictable natural world rises up time and time again to scare innocent victims.
Side characters do dumb things that might make you yell at the screen. Our heroes may survive an attack, but there is always another one to come.
Chung gives viewers the summer movie they want. “Twisters” is essentially a series of tornado sequences strung together to achieve maximum thrills. Some are pure spectacle; an oil refiner goes up in flames, making a twister catch fire. Others are intricately-designed suspense sequences in which characters outrun a tornado like they would a sentient freight train. The sequences come so fast and so furious that even if one doesn’t do it for you — and there are some that fail to conjure awe — the next one probably will.
If “Twisters” had been the first in the franchise, it would be an unqualified success, a throwback to classic disaster movies featuring one of our era’s brightest stars (and another who makes the best of an underwritten part). But there’s no defeating the destructive power of franchise filmmaking.
Even a decent, better-than-expected sequel like this one can’t shed the stink of opportunism. There are no real surprises. It’s a storm we saw coming for years.
We’re just relieved it didn’t destroy our house.